


The Lady of the Golden Wood

by mangacrack



Series: Season of Kink (2017) [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Female-Centric, Light Dom/sub, Outdoor Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: Shyness is not a concept Galadriel understands.





	The Lady of the Golden Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Seasons of Kink (Obscenity).

 

**Celeborn**

 

Lothlórien is quiet. It's a warm afternoon in summer and most Elves of the Golden Wood are still resting. The night before they walked under the stars until the sun rose. Galadriel enjoys the moments were her realm lays undisturbed, only birds and the wind whispering in the trees breaking the silence. Right now another kind of sound adds to the summer music. Her own voice, low and eager, since her husband has been given a specific task. Galadriel takes a deep breath and suppresses a moan as the tongue flickers over her sensitive flesh.  

Her hand reaches down and she grasps a handful of Celeborn's silver hair, not yanking at it but carefully guiding his head back to her crotch. She might have come just over his face but that doesn't mean they're done yet. 

"Again, my dear," she pants and looks down. All she sees from her husband is his long hair covering his back. His face is buried between her legs, his hands holding her thighs for support. "We aren't done yet. Not by far." 

Celeborn moans at these words, surrenders as his wife's fingers rake over his skin. Long ago he learned to follow Galadriel's whims even if it means kneeling almost naked on the forest floor, while she is completely dressed, only holding up her dress for him. Oh, he longs for to touch more of her, take her breasts into his hands or might oven bury himself into her flesh completely - but that's not for him to decide. 

His own shaft goes ignored as the Lady of the Golden Wood bears down again when Celeborn's tongue darts out to lick her clean. There will only be release for him when Galadriel commands it - and not before. 

 

 

 

 

**Maglor**

 

She meets the visitor in secret. With quick steps Galadriel descends the stairs and vanishes inside the woods. She has long learned how to evade the watchers. The Sindar aren't the only ones capable of walking quietly through the woods. Besides Lothlórien is _her_ home. Celeborn is a guest. Well-fed and respected, but inside this realm he holds little to no power. She build this realm, protects it with her power and the golden trees answer her calls far more readily than they do with her husband. 

Galadriel learned to speak with them a long time ago, so she isn't worried about being discovered. 

The leaves, the shadows and the half-light will hide her well. 

"Artanis," a smooth voice greets her when she reaches their usual place. Her breath is already going a little short. 

Lust and excitement runs through her. It's been a while since they met. The use of of her old name alone sends a shiver down her spine.

"Makalaurë, you look well," Galadriel answers. Anyone else might not notice the quiver in her voice but the Fëanorian has always been an observant one.

His smirk reveals that he knows how he's affecting her. Since he's sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree she has to bend down to greet him. The kiss is rough, just how she likes it. At least, when it's Maglor. Celeborn would never dare to act like the Fëanorian whose fingers travel up her legs. One hand is buried in her hair, combing through the long tresses - and oh yes, both of them are aware _why exactly_ he's doing this. Their memories are long and the matter with the three hairs is still unresolved. 

But Galadriel doesn't care, can't, not when the fingers travel _up_ and slither under her dress. She cries out and clings to her cousin when his long, and god, _thick_ fingers slip between her fold. It shouldn't be this easy but Makalaurë has always been daring and it never, never fails to stir her up. 

"Does you husband know that you're running around naked beneath that flimsy dress?" Maglor asks and draws Galadriel into his lap. 

His fingers never leave her. Instead he's burying them deeper until Galadriel is riding them. She manages to shake her head. Celeborn would be appealed to know she's been wet ever since she sensed Maglor entering the Golden Wood. 

"Don't make wait," she rasps and grinds against his strong muscled body. Some rumors say that Maglor turned into a frail broken wraith after the War of Wrath. 

If that was ever the truth than it's long past now. There's nothing weak in the way her cousin manhandles her. Galadriel knows she going to feel it for days, if not weeks, when they're done. But that's exactly what she's looking forward to. Gentle lovemaking she can get from her husband. Celeborn is good at that. But Maglor? Galadriel groans when she sinks down on her cousin's hard shaft. Maglor made her come just with his fingers in the first three minutes after they met. Its not going take much to do it again. 

Galadriel moans when Maglor finally frees her of her dress and his calloused hands grab her waist to pull her down again. 

In a few hours he'll be gone again, but Galadriel doesn't mind. Maglor will be back. He comes every time she summons him. 

 

 

 

**Haldir**

 

"My Lady," Haldir breathes when the Queen of Lothlórien gestures him to come closer. 

He's a little unsure how to react. His Lord Celeborn is visiting Thranduil and he tasked him to look after his wife. It's not the first time but rarely these duties went beyond basic guard duty. Perhaps it the fact that Celeborn wrote a letter that arrived yesterday, announcing that he's going to stay a few month in the Green Wood. The Lady doesn't seem too angry about that. Yet there's something in her gaze that makes Haldir nervous. 

She's a beacon of confidence and power. The most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. Haldir is convinced that anyone inside Lothlórien is in love with her, at least a little.

Galadriel is the light they crave. Next to her fire, warm and blazing as the sun, Celeborn is a pale, dying star.  

There's nothing what he'd not do for her. 

"I know," she says.

Haldir swallows thickly. It's impossible to keep secrets form the Lady. 

"What can I do for you, my Lady?" he asks instead. 

It would be proper to bow but he can't get his eyes leave her body. Today she's dressed in simple grey shirt that leaves her arms free. The trousers are a rare sight as well, usually a sign that the Lady has some work to do. All in all it's very ... distracting for the Lady is far taller than the Elleth among the Sindar. Perhaps it's the Noldor blood but Haldir can't help but notice how well build his Lady is. 

"Come closer, Haldir," the Lady commands and gestures to a place in front of a chair. "And kneel before me." 

Haldir groans since walking is a bit difficult but he does fulfill the request without asking further questions. But when his Lady bends down and her full round breasts get into his line of vision Haldir grows even harder in his pants. He tries to hide his embarrassment but the Lady stops him. 

"It's alright," she says and her breath burns hot on his skin. "You're right where I want you to be." 

Next thing he feels are her naked toes pressing gently against the bulge of his crotch. Even through the thick leather is nothing but amazing. So Haldir freezes, completely surrending to the whims of his Lady as she picks up a book and begins to read. Haldir remains at her feet, hard and waiting. He loves his Lady and he doesn't mind the uncomfortable position - even when he comes inside his pants, moaning and softly begging for more attention. 

It's a strain to do as she wants, but his Lady's praise is all Haldir needs. 

 

 

 

**Thranduil**

 

"Stay clear of her, Thranduil," Oropher warns his son. "I don't trust the Golodhrim, and that women even less. I never understood, what Celeborn sees in her."

The King of the Greenwood reaches for his wine and glares over the table, where Galadriel is speaking with her husband. Thranduil on the hand, can't help but keep looking at her. It's true that Galadriel is different than their own people. An Elleth of the Greenwood would never run around dressed like that. Her dress is white, is shines in the moonlight and barely covers anything important. Her arms and her feet are bare, though she hasn't complained once about stone and twigs hitting or cutting through her skin. Thranduil imagines it takes strength for that. 

He heard the tales that the Golodhrim crossed the never-ending ice to return to Middle Earth. For a Lady like Galadriel, he guesses that there's little worse after that.

Yet that's not the only reason why Thranduil barely can keep his eyes away. 

Namely, her breasts. Of course, it's impolite to look, let alone to stare as he does, but no matter what Thranduil tries it's impossible not to notice them. The dress is cut wide and deep, revealing her breasts, when she bends over or every time she lifts her arms a fraction to high. Thranduil would like to know how his cousin can keep eating in peace, while his wife wears nothing under that dress of hers. 

For the dress is revealing enough to notice that Galadriel wears _nothing_ beneath it. 

Well, perhaps there's a reason why Celeborn is sitting next to his wife, while Thranduil nearly in front of her. Thranduil glances sidewards, trying to learn how his father is dealing with this. He notices very quickly that Oropher firmly keeps looking the Golodh's eyes. Which makes his father nearly as uncomfortable as him, for some reason. 

Thranduil takes a deep breath and hopes the dinner will be over quickly. 

Yet he can't keep the dirty thoughts away. Galadriel's breasts are so full that Thranduil imagines holding them in his hands. That her nipples erect and rubbing against the fabric just fuels his  fantasies. Would she allow him to lick them, swirl them between his fingers? Stars, what would he give in order to touch this bosom. Once would be enough, then memory would suffice. When Thranduil finally manages to tear his eyes away, he looks directly into Galadriel's amused face and he turns bright red. They both know where his gaze has been. Thankfully the lady doesn't seem offended. Instead she sends him a secret smile, as if she already has knows his deepest desires.   

Thranduil hopes she does and leaves the door to his chambers wide open, when he finally goes to bed. 

Just in case. 

**Author's Note:**

> I always had the headcanon that the Sindar are more prudish than the Noldor. (Let's face it. The Noldor love sex and it's probably Fëanor's fault.) Anyway, I might do another part one day with females. Maybe, since I've never written femslash before but the idea of Galadriel putting Nimrodel into her place sounds appealing.


End file.
